face of the gazebo that sat at the water's edge. He knew from fishing in the bay that the water was exceptionally shallow along the seawall. Concrete waste from repairs to the mansion formed a rocky ledge just inches below the water line. He would have to clear the ledge.
With his last step, he shot into the air in a racing dive, extending as far as he could, praying he would make it.
In a second, he felt the splash of surprisingly warm water and the tangle of sea grasses, but he had just cleared the ledge. As he kicked off his shoes and began swimming furiously away from the seawall, he heard the shout behind him.
'Get him!' Fornecchio yelled.
'I can't swim,' Crew Cut replied.
'Goddamit!'
Bobby looked back over his shoulder just in time to see Fornecchio jumping off the seawall, feet first. He went up about two feet in the air and came straight down, his shoes banging the ledge like a sledgehammer breaking rocks.
Bobby heard Fornecchio's scream, the sound carrying across the water, a keening, high-pitched wail of pain.
'I broke my fucking ankles!' Fornecchio yelled into the night.
From her car, Christine called Bobby's house, then his cell. No answer. She tried the Fontainebleau to see if he'd left her a message. Nothing.
Twenty minutes later, she was in the hotel, on her way down the corridor, when she heard a commotion behind a closed door several rooms from her own.
Nightlife's room!
Approaching the door, she heard a woman's scream, then a thud, and the crash of furniture.
Oh God, now what?
She had forgotten about Lateesha. Damn it, Bobby! What have you done now?
She banged on the door. 'Open up! Nightlife, open the door!'
Behind the door, there was an indecipherable sound. It could have been a cry of pain or exultation. Then another crash. Glass maybe, a lamp falling to the floor. Then, Nightlife's voice, 'You bitch!' And a sharp female cry.
'Open the door!' Christine screamed. 'Police! Security! Help!'
Down the corridor, a young black woman was pushing a housekeeping cart. 'Yes, ma'am, can I help you?' she asked, in the lilt of the islands.
'Your key! Open the door. A woman's in trouble in there.'
The housekeeper put her ear to the door just as a muffled shout came from the room. She hurriedly slipped a card key into the slot and opened the door.
Christine threw the door open. The room was a shambles. The writing desk was overturned, a lamp lay smashed on the floor. The bed coverings were balled up in a corner, and the mattress had slid off the bed. Lateesha stood in the center of the room, her dress torn open in front nearly to the waist. On the floor lay Nightlife Jackson, moaning, one hand clutching his groin, the other arm twisted at an unnatural angle away from his body.
'Omigod,' Christine said. 'Are you all right, Lateesha?'
'Hell no, I broke a nail,' she said, examining the pinky of her right hand.
'How did you…?' Christine gestured toward the fallen man, who made no effort to get to his feet.
'Oh, he's not too much. Didn't Bobby tell you?'
'Tell me what?'
'I'm a three-time national karate champion. That's how I met Bobby, sort of. This ex-boyfriend of mine kept hanging around like a flea on a dog. He still had a key to my apartment, and I woke up one night to find him in my bed all hot and bothered. I lost it and let him have it. Not like it was unfair of me, unloading on him. He teaches martial arts at the Y and outweighs me by eighty pounds, but he's the one who ended up in the hospital, and I'm the one who got charged with assault and battery.'
Nightlife rolled to one knee and said in a whisper, 'Call a doctor, please.'
'What happened?' Christine asked.
'Nightlife seemed to think I was a piece of meat he could have a slice. I told him he'd be wearing his balls as earrings if he didn't take his hands off me, but he didn't listen. Why don't men ever listen?'
'I truly don't know,' Christine said.
44
February 5
Super Bowl Sunday
Christine lay in Bobby's bed restlessly tossing from side-to-side. She had called the police to report Bobby missing, but the dispatcher said to wait 24 hours to see if he showed up. They were awfully busy with all the people in town.
Christine had picked Scott up from her father's hotel suite where the boy was watching 'Cheerleader Gang Bang' on pay-TV. He argued it was a football flick, but she made him turn it off anyway, and they headed across the causeway to the mainland.
She wanted to get as far away from her father as possible, and she figured that Bobby would come home sooner or later.
If he was okay. But what happened to you, Bobby? What have they done to you?
Scott was sleeping soundly in his room, while Christine listened to the palm fronds slapping the tin roof of the cottage. She watched the digital time display flick from 3:11 to 3:12 on the clock radio. She had dozed earlier, but her sleep was like a cocked pistol, and she kept awakening at every sound.
A ceiling fan whirled endlessly above her head, and she tried to let the whompeta-whompeta of the motor lull her back to sleep. No luck. She buried her head in the pillow, which smelled faintly of Bobby, and she remembered their lovemaking. Was it only the day before?
Oh, Bobby. Where are you? I need you.
At first she didn't hear the tapping at the window, and then, she thought it was a light rain falling. Then she heard Bobby's muffled voice.
'Chrissy, it's me.'
She opened the window, and Bobby hoisted himself into the room.
'Thank God you're all right. Bobby, I was so afraid.'
He hugged her, and she noticed that his clothes were dripping water. 'What happened to you? You looked like you swam here.'
'No. I swam to the Rickenbacker Causeway. I hitchhiked here. Or rather, I walked here. You'd be surprised how many people won't pick up a barefoot guy who's soaking wet at one o'clock in the morning.'
She wrapped her arms around his neck and gripped him fiercely, and he lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around him, their bodies joined, his nooks into her crannies. They fit perfectly together, like the pieces of a rock carefully split by a sculptor, then slipped together into a singular, smooth piece. With her eyes squeezed shut, she felt a tear tracking down her cheeks. This is what she wanted. Her son and the man she loved…together again.
Bobby told her about Dino Fornecchio, and how he got away. Christine told him that LaBarca was working for her father, and how he'd been set up. Then she told him about Lateesha kick boxing Nightlife's testicles from Miami Beach to Opa-Locka, and they both smiled.
'Who says there's no justice in the world?' Bobby said. 'How badly is he hurt?'
'Doc Joyner says he has a broken clavicle and separated shoulder, to say nothing of very blue balls. He won't
